


Feverish

by WTFIsSheOn



Series: Life After Fear [1]
Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Comfort Reading, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Multi, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24017689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTFIsSheOn/pseuds/WTFIsSheOn
Summary: Casey comes down with the flu and her boys nurse her back to health.
Relationships: Barry/Casey Cooke, Casey Cooke/Dennis
Series: Life After Fear [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732423
Comments: 15
Kudos: 81





	Feverish

**Author's Note:**

> First entry for my series _Life After Fear_ -basically the day to day one shots that take place in the Turning Traitor universe that don't belong in Threats of Romance. 
> 
> This isn't a COVID story, but if you don't want to even think about being sick, I'd give this a pass. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy the mindless domestic bliss.

It’s frightening, how fast one’s body can decline in the space of a few hours. One moment Casey was taking turns playing the Resident Evil 2 remake with Hedwig, and the next she was squirming uncomfortably in her chair, grossly aware of what felt like a rod being jammed into her back.

As she got up to grab water, chills broke out all over her skin, and she had to steady herself against a nearby wall to catch her bearings. Hedwig’s jeers at the digital monsters he was evading were suddenly drowned out by a loud humming in her ears, and without meaning too, she groaned.

Hedwig finally took notice and paused the game, jumping up and practically throwing the PS4 controller down (even in her impaired state Casey cringed, imagining the tongue lashing the boy would get from Heinrich if he ever found out how Hedwig treated his belongings).

“Aww, are you done playing already? You promised we’d keep going until we get the next boss,” he whined, picking a lollipop from the candy dish on their living room table and immediately chomping on the exterior shell. The habit drove Dennis crazy, so he made sure to only indulge when the stern alter wasn’t around.

Casey reached up to probe her forehead, fingers traveling against her temple to check for fever. “I feel a little funny." Another wave of dizziness hit her and she stumbled over to the couch, collapsing with the full weight of her body onto the furniture.

“Uh..Casey, are you alright?” The nine year old yanked the Tootise Pop out of his mouth and crawled up next to her, staring down intently. “You look like Jade when she forgets to watch her sugar, et cetera!”

“Yeah, just...tired. Give me a sec,” Casey mumbled into the cushions. “Could you please get me some water?”

“I’ll go get you the juice we always have for Jade just in case her in...inselur…when her sugar drops.”

“Wait, Hedwig, -”

Before she could plead for further help, he jumped away and bolted into the kitchen. The lightness in Casey’s head intensified exponentially, and she had to fight against passing out until he got back and she could ask for one of the grownups.

Floating in and out of consciousness, she wasn’t sure how long he was gone, but the next thing she was aware of was a hand briefly touching her skin before pulling away with a few choice expletives.

Barry, thank god.

“Doll, you’re on fire. I just saw ya two hours ago, what’s going on?”

She tried to answer, but apparently whatever she said made no sense because Barry started cursing again. Before she knew it, she was in his arms and he was running up the stairs in the way only a vessel of the Beast could. “Nope. Nope nope nope,” he muttered, making a beeline for their bedroom. "We gotta get ya sorted, sweetheart. Something is not right."

Dennis was pacing near the edge of the light, doing his best not to attempt to charge in and take over. _We need to get her exact temperature, see if there’s still any flu medicine in the cabinet, get some liquid into her-_

“Relax.”

_I’m perfectly relaxed. Didn’t you say she was burning up? That does demand our immediate attention, you don't mess with high fevers._

Barry’s fragile surety in himself was rapidly falling apart in the face of Dennis’s concerns. He lay Casey down onto their bed and stood back to get a better look at her. “I know how to take care of a sick person, Dennis. She’s not an alien, she’ll respond to Tylenol and a good night’s rest just like anybody else would.” He played with the edges of the bed sheets, unsure if she'd be more comfortable with or without them before deciding against. Bending down, he pressed his lips to her cheek, the clammy heat making him flinch. "I'll be right back babygirl, just gonna go grab a thermometer. If it's bad we might have to take ya to see someone, but let's not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?"

If Casey nodded or gave any other response, it was imperceptible. He didn't want to leave her alone, but fortunately Dennis insisted on keeping all medical supplies in the master bathroom, only a few feet away.

After grabbing what was needed, Barry was back at her side in an instant, still searching for any signs of alertness. Brushing some of her hair to the side, he slid the thermometer into her ear, bouncing his right leg nervously. Dennis’s agitation was bleeding into him and only getting worse the longer he kept the other alter from the light. _Dennis_ was usually the one to hold things together while they were sick, mostly because he insisted on doing so and no one ever felt up to arguing with him about it; why fight to maintain hold of something that felt awful? But now it was Casey who needed them, and Barry's devotion demanded he be there for her.

The thermometer beeped and he nearly dropped it when he read its digital face- 103 degrees. _Shit_. He looked back down to see she that was definitely asleep now, whatever virus had gotten its claws in her was working overtime.

Loathe to leave but desperate for something that would help bring her temperature down, Barry dragged a fan out of the closet and placed it besides the bed, adjusting the settings so as not to not disturb her rest. He could feel Dennis brushing up against him impatiently and he nodded in determination; they could handle this.

* * *

Nearly forty minutes later, Barry opened the bedroom door again, carefully balancing a tray of food and liquids with his free hand.

“Hey babe, how are ya feeling?” he greeted as Casey stirred, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. Gently placing the tray by the bedside, Barry moved to crack open the curtains but Casey hissed in protest.

“Please don't, my head is killing me.” Her voice came out in rasps, clearly struggling to speak. Barry immediately dropped the string.

“I’m sorry, hon. I did run out and get ya some Nyquil, and it’s the good stuff. You know, the kind ya gotta sign for at the pharmacy now.”

The only response he received was a light groan and he sat down on the bed besides her, gently helping her sit up.

“How’s your stomach? Feel up to eating a little?”

Casey nodded and he relaxed, turning back to the tray. “Alright, you’ve got toast and soup and crackers, and I brought ya some water, Gatorade, and Ginger Ale, wasn’t sure what would be the easiest for you to get down.”

“Where’s the Heineken?”

“I…huh?”

She smiled and than turned her head and coughed violently, nearly falling out of the bed. Barry caught her and held her close, rubbing her back as she took painful breaths in and out, the attack eventually subsiding.

“That’s what I get for teasing you when you’re being so nice to me,” she managed weakly, but Barry shushed her in protest.

“Don’t say that. Are you ok?”

“It…hurts.”

“What hurts, baby doll?”

“Everything,” she croaked, melting into his body. “I feel awful. Will you stay with me?”

 _Be smart_ , Dennis warned, no longer able to remain silent. _If you get us sick, we’ll have a hell of a time taking care of her._

Barry gave him a mental swat, clearly unconcerned, before turning his attention back to Casey. “Of course I’ll stay, how could I leave ya alone?"

Casey must have realized his brief pause indicated someone internally protesting (who else but Dennis?) “If Dennis has a problem with it, I really don’t need-”

“I'll worry about him. No more fussing, ya gotta eat now,” Barry insisted firmly but gently, handing her a spoon. He stood over the bed for a few seconds with a raised brow, obviously waiting on her. Meekly, she brought the spoon to her mouth and couldn’t help but close her eyes in relief as the warm chicken broth soothed her ravaged throat, and began eating in ernest.

Satisfied, Barry crossed to the other side of the bed and kicked off his shoes before sliding in next to her. Casey continued to sip at her soup as he brushed sweat slicked hair from her face, sucking at his bottom lip in concern. "Let's get some medicine in ya, I don't like how warm you are."

After finishing her meal and taking the Nyquil, Casey tried to rest again. She twisted and turned against Barry, attempting to find a position that was somewhat bearable. The hoodie he was wearing was well worn and comfy, smelling of fabric softener and pleasantly fluffy, but it was useless; every which way she moved, it felt like her back was caught in a vise. 

“I know,” Barry hummed in sympathy, massaging her neck, soothing the fire in her nerves. “Soon that Nyquil is gonna take care of everything, just relax.” He pat the mattress, coaxing her to lie down. “Lay down, I’ll rub your back.”

She obeyed, laying besides him as he set to work. It was actually a bit painful at first, but fortunately after a few minutes her eyelids began to grow heavy, the medicine's tranquilizing effect kicking in.

Sensing the calm overtaking her body, Barry’s strokes became gentler, allowing her to fall asleep. “Get some rest,” he murmured, following the curve of her spine down to her tailbone and then back up again. “I’ll be right here if ya need anything, I promise.”

While his dedication was appreciated, Casey wasn’t sure she had a choice in the matter. Within seconds, she was asleep again.

* * *

The next day and a half went on with Casey falling in and out of consciousness only to wake up for a light meal and hydration, watching an occasional episode of _The Blacklist_ with Barry. Then she'd medicate herself and sleep away hours at a time while Dennis snuck off to disinfect everything. Throughly.

On the second day, in in the middle of a weird drug induced dream about Orwell acting as captain for the Union army, something jolted her awake. The bed was shaking and the sound of Barry practically choking caused her to raise her head in alarm.

“Oh my god, Bear, that sounds terrible.”

In the dim light she couldn’t see his features, only that he was bent over, violently coughing into the crook of his elbow. He waved her away, smiling and blinking back the tears that had accumulated during the fit. “It’s fine, probably just allergies. I’m sorry I woke ya.”

_I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m not. Why don’t you ever listen?_

"Dennis, I really don’t need this right now.” Barry sneezed, a searing pain shooting through his sinuses.

_Go back to your chair._

"Just because you usually-"

_Barry._

Dennis's tone brook no argument, and his meaning was clear: he had already compromised by allowing Barry to take the lead and nurse Casey, but now that Kevin himself was ill, it was Dennis’s turn.

Visibly deflating, Barry reached over for Casey's hands. “I’ll see ya around, babydoll, Dennis is going into mama bear mode. He's gonna take care of the both of us for a while.”

 _Mama Bear_. Those were words she would never think to associate with Dennis, but had to admit it was apt, and kind of heartwarming. She pecked Barry’s cheek, guilty over this turn of events. “Thanks for everything, Bear Bear. I'm sorry you're sick too.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart.” He returned with a kiss to the tip of her red nose, feeling Dennis cringe next to him. “And don't be sorry, just get better soon. We haven’t fooled around in _days,_ the waiting is killing me.”

“Bear!”

He laughed before realizing this was a mistake and winced at the pain in his throat, secretly relieved to pass the light off. _Here ya go, fam. I'm around if ya need me._

Dennis tried to straighten their back, already feeling an ache begin to creep in. "I won't. Go." Grimacing, he rubbed his temples furiously before turning a pained face to Casey. “I told him he was gonna get us sick. I don't understand how he can afford to remain so irresponsible after all these years.”

“Please don’t be mad at Bear, I asked him to stay.”

Surprised, Dennis’s furrowed brows softened, and he reminded himself how harsh his simple observations could sound sometimes. “I’m not mad he stayed, I’m… _annoyed_ he was careless. Gloves and a face mask would have been appropriate, so would some bleach and-”

As if accentuating his point, he suddenly sneezed and just barely covered his mouth in time, reaching for the tissue box in disgust. “Christ, this is going to be a pain.” With a sigh, he blew his nose and climbed out of bed, disposing of the tissue and helping himself to a liberal amount of hand sanitizer.

“Where are you going?" Casey protested after him. "You have to rest!”

He paused at the door, only taking the briefest look back over his shoulder. “I get to rest when I’m dead. I’ll be right back.”

Casey listened to him head down the stairs, coughing the entire way. For the next few minutes she heard shuffling downstairs, and then him slowly making his way back to their bedroom.

He returned with supplies, making a few more trips downstairs. By the time he was done, there were plastic jugs of fresh water, Gatorade, medicine, cough drops, more boxes of tissues, and an assortment of crackers and fruit on the bedstand.

Dennis slid back into bed with a groan, his job done for the time being. “There’s no point in cleaning right now since I doubt we can reinfect each other, but please try not to leave the bedroom. I already sanitized the rest of the house while you were sleeping, I don’t want to have to do it again."

"I won't, don't worry." Cuddling up to his side, Casey rested her head against his chest, and Dennis adjusted himself so his arm wasn’t caught between her and the headboard. By far, he found that this was one of the hardest parts of being in a relationship. Everything in him wanted to go somewhere dark and private and sleep the illness out, and although he was already infected, he still itched to avoid contact, the need to get away like a thousand insects crawling through his brain. He knew that if he gave voice to his fears Casey would understand, but much to his shame, it seemed Barry didn't share in this particular struggle. For the sake of his pride, Dennis forced himself out of his comfort zone. It wasn't the first time it had to happen over the course of their relationship, and he highly doubted it would be the last. 

As Casey drifted off to sleep, he picked up the television remote and started looking for something to keep him occupied, finally settling on the thing that looked the least likely to put him to sleep, a horror movie called “Terrified”. It even had subtitles, so he’d have to pay attention, more or less.

As the movie played on, Dennis found himself growing more and more tense. It wasn’t that he found it frightening, really, but the adrenaline surges he was getting were less than soothing, especially in his weakened state. His breathing began to intensify, waking Casey, who was still laying across his chest. She opened a sleepy eye and looked at the monster on the television, than up at Dennis, a sly smile breaking out on her face.

“Don’t be scared, Dennis, I’m here.”

He smiled in return, just barely. "Scared? Keep dreaming."

He exited out of the film to Shudder's main menu, trying to regain some composure as he flicked through the various categories. “I don’t know why Luke makes us pay for this, he barely uses it. Not to mention that every movie on here looks like it was made on a five grand budget, tops.” He leaned forward, squinting his eyes. “Why is Gary Busey in every goddamned one of them?”

Laughing, Casey was thankful that at least one thing was going her way: she was getting more quality Dennis time now then she had in the past month. “What’s wrong with Gary Busey?”

Dennis looked down at her, nose wrinkled in thought. His hair was sticking up straight on one side, and she fought the urge to fix it. “I just can’t see how anything could possibly be scary with him in it.”

“So you _do_ get scared!”

“What?” She was grinning like he had just stumbled into a trap and Dennis bristled. “Movies do _not_ scare me in the least. I just don’t see how _anyone_ could be scared if Busey is involved. The man is a human version of a Potoo bird. We had one back at the zoo, dumbest looking animal I've ever seen.”

Casey rolled her eyes. "The flu has made you super bitchy, Mr. Crumb. Hey look, Friday the 13th! You ever see any of those?"

Dennis shrugged noncommittally, he'd seen all sorts of slasher films over his lifetime. Watching movies was a mindless way to pass the time when you spent most of it alone. "I'm sure I've seen one or two."

“Think you could take on Jason?”

“The one with the hockey mask? What does he do?”

“Kind of appears out of nowhere and stabs you with things.”

Hardly a concern to someone of Dennis's calibur, and he snorted softly. “We have impenetrable skin. Good luck.”

"What about Pinhead?"

"Rhino skin," Dennis repeated calmly.

Intrigued by this new game of 'what if', Casey twisted in his lap to sit up and accidentally leaned into his stomach, causing him to flinch. "Hey, easy," he hissed. "I don't have impenetrable skin right _now._ "

"I know, I'm sorry, it wasn't intentional." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she nestled against his collarbone. Even in the grip of the flu, he still smelled of soap and aftershave, like some rare, useless super power. “What about Michael Myers?”

Dennis sighed through his nose, triggering another sneeze. “Isn’t he practically the same as Jason?”

“Yeah, but he _fast walks_ at you.”

“I’d like to see him fast walk at me while I’m climbing walls.”

The bravado made Casey laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. You’re cute when you’re bragging about yourself.”

He shrugged against her arms, red tinging his cheeks. “It’s not bragging if it’s a fact.”

Still amused, Casey turned her attention back to the television. Facts, indeed.

* * *

Fortunately for Dennis, super human DNA didn't just give one an advantage in combat against immortal serial killers. On the fourth day his fever broke, and by the morning of the fifth, Casey also was finally on the mend, declaring she was all better.

Dennis tisked before pulling out the thermometer and insisting she double check. When it beeped and came back 98 degrees, he sighed in relief and then carefully removed the plastic cap and tossed it in the waste basket, making a mental note to empty and disinfect it later.

"Our bed sheets are disgusting," he announced, snapping on plastic gloves and getting ready to strip the bed. "Why don't you take a nice bath and wash the grime off. I've got to take care of these sheets. And the trash. And then disinfect the bathroom and washing machine."

Casey knocked her hips into his, pulling at his shirt; he was so ridiculously sexy when he got down to business. "While that sounds like a lot of fun and everything, you should come shower with me."

He frowned, body at war with his sensibilities. "I'll need to shower _after_ I'm done cleaning."

"Oh come on, it's not like you're a stranger to showering multiple times a day." She turned and walked towards the bathroom, casually flinging her shirt off and into the hamper, if only just barely. "I'm feeling...really _healthy_ right now, Dennis."

It only took the length of a frustrated exhale for Dennis to decide to follow after, although he did spare a few seconds to fold up his clothing before placing it in the hamper. When he walked into the bathroom, it was already steaming, and he removed his glasses before stepping into the shower after the object of his desires.

They moved quickly, hungry for what came next. Shower mat firmly in place, Dennis picked Casey up and braced her against the wall, her legs wrapped firmly around his waist. He proceeded to fuck her hard, five day's worth of pent up energy quickly expended in the course of minutes, their efforts making the curtain rod shake in protest.

After they both found release, Dennis began washing Casey's hair, a favorite ritual for them both. As his hands worked shampoo into her scalp, she sighed, the hot water nearly orgasmic after days of sleeping in her own sweat. “It was nice being able to spend time with you, Dennis, sick or not. I think I should lick public door handles more often, maybe we can do it again.”

His fingers froze in their task of detangling her hair and she could practically feel his eyes bore into the back of her head.

“Just kidding.”

“Funny lady.” His voice was flat, indicating he in no way found the idea humorous. He gently bit her neck in admonishment, and she arched back into his touch, aching for more.

"I mean it. Didn't you enjoy having some 'us' time, without any distractions?"

Dennis pulled back and blinked, water forming droplets on his lashes. Even after all they had been through, he still had difficulty wrapping his head around the idea of someone _wanting_ to spend time with him. And if he were honest, she was right. Despite the discomfort, it was kind of nice, just lazily wasting hours away together.

In a rare moment of mischievousness, he smacked her ass before spinning her around to face him, his blue eyes warming the same way Barry's always did when he teased her. "I guess we can find some filthy hole-in-the-wall bar and get to licking, then. We'll make a date out of it, get sick again in no time." He cringed even as he joked, but was rewarded with another kiss, Casey giggling into his mouth. 

God, she was ruining him, and he loved every second.


End file.
